today
i feel empty and alone
feel like crying for no reason
feel abandoned forgotten useless used up
please people
i know you fiendss like me n appreciate me
im not soliciting a flood
of comments here
or fishing for compliments
im just trying to hang in this mood here
explore its nature
its 7.00 in nz
i go on in 3 hours
ive sold bugger all tickets tonight
and christchurch
altho a lovely city
has that same feeling as oslo
or some bleak scottish city
you know
that remote windswept
youre miles from anywhere feeling
i used to get it in dover de too
i got it in kiruna in sweden
adelaide in australia in winter
sensytive guys like me get it easier
you see
i can get more outta a situation than most people
i can see some stones n some broken glass
on the side of the road
and it means something to me
the clouds
the grass in a graveyard
someones obituary i never heard of
a book in a second hand shop
a look someone gives me
a child
anything
im taking in everything all the time
whether i want to or not
thats why i can write n write n write…
childe
i could begin writing now
and never stop
even if i live to be a hundred n fifty three
im just packed up to the rafters with impressions
n thoughts n feelings
maybe everyone is….
its hard to tell
you never know whats affecting other people do you?
but sometimes
ah….
im not complaining fiendss
im not saying how tough it is to be me
are you kidding?
its been a cakewalk….
but sometimes….
its not depression
dont confuse it with that
depression i have been aquainted with
thanks to heroin n getting off of it
thats another thing altogether
depression is a terrible terrible thing
a void
a crushing grey awful weight
luckily i dont have that
if you do
i sympathise…
no
this is melancholia
this is a sensitive n overactive nervous system
a tendency i have always had
its good for creativity
since everything means something to me
i dont have to look far
to find inspiration
no
inspiration is not hard for me to find
since anything has some significance
the insects
a stain on a wall
the red of the traffic lights
a word heard on the wind
the shape of a cloud
like marcel proust
a complicated innerlife
inexplicable almost
i guess everyone has this
but some peoples jostles to the foreground
makes itself heard
the tiniest details
i drive thru a town
i see a sad looking house
or a tiny dead bird
a bit of string
i dunno
or even an old bit of newspaper
i get melancholy
i feel my mortality pushing down on me
saying you are so temporary
oh there goes another 5 seconds
till you go to that very alone place
that place where we stand empty handed
before god
or just before more emptiness
alone
with nothing
what do i need?
well this is where drugs n drink come in
because when that emptiness strikes
you reach for the whatever it is
that gets you thru the night
that lonely dark night of the soul
you think of all the sad bad things youve done
believe me nothing can protect you from nothing
look at elvis n marilyn
n all the current celebs
they got it….. everything
but when the nothing envelopes em
everything is no good
so you may think
come on time being
you must be happy knowing you made people happy
it hasnt seemed to work like that for me
i was walking round this strange remote town
with the melancholic blues
envying all those bastards
who are younger n richer n happier than me
and jesus
the list is unending
absolutely unending
yet envy i know is a sure fire misery maker
comparing yerself to others is a big trap
you know that
you do know that, dont you
everyone with their own cross to bear
you cant avoid pain
you can try
but its gonna catch up with ya sooner or later
its being human
the blues
the inadequacy
the regrets
the what-ifs
n if-onlys
anyway
today my own little box of sadnesses came open
and i feel eaten up n spat out
exile on mainstreet of some little city
in the southern hemisphere somewhere
on a blue blue planet
going round a tiny little sun
somewhere in an infinite universe
i want connection
i want contact
i want assurance n reassurance
i want mollycoddling n pampering
i wanna feel special n useful
i wanna do something that means something
i want love and more love
but this world…
this unfair world
with all its misery n injustices
the big animals eating the little animals
the ugly lonely bedsitter people
the washed up olde singers n actors
the waiters hustling their scripts no one will ever read
its crashes n its whirlpools
its illnesses
its dead end jobs
its unforgiving stare
this world is no place for the likes of me
i want that cushiony soft warm fuzzy world
that sunday night
i just had a bath
and mums making toasted sandwiches
and we’re watching disneyland on telly world
that protected safe world
which has slipped thru my fingers
like the time that gave birth to it
leaving me exposed
raw
confused
hi n dri
unable
thats it
thats my melancholia
same as yours but different
no better or worse
just that i know how to write about it easier
its a luxury
of a man with too much time on his hands
preoccupied with himself
and talking to himself
via his dirty off white ibook g4
maybe i’ll tune back in after tonites gig(gle)
maybe not
love
sk